Flowery Poems
by Dreamer1920
Summary: Sandy finds a love poem sitting in her flowerbed; a love poem written especially for her. Who wrote it & how did it end up there? Read & find out.
1. Chapter 1: An unexpected finding

**Hello again, friends! I have another little story here for you; a Spandy story, in particular. I was inspired to write this after reading a very kind review from a person called 'umi', who said that they loved all my Spandy stories and hoped that I would write more. Well, umi, this is for you!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own SpongeBob SquarePants or any of its characters.**

* * *

**Flowery Poems**

_~French Narrator~_

"Ah, a lovely, quiet Saturday evening in wonderful Bikini Bottom. The sun is setting, the mood is calm, and the water is filled with the contagious laughter of our favorite undersea sponge – SpongeBob SquarePants. Oh, what's this? He does not seem to be alone this evening. Let us see what he and Sandy are chatting about."

The sky was filled with beautiful orange hues as the two friends made their way towards the sponge's pineapple, laughing and sharing the joy of each other's company.

"Dahahaha! Boy, that was some petting zoo, ay, Sandy?" asked SpongeBob, thinking fondly about the fun-filled day they had just experienced.

"Pettin' zoo? Heck, that wasn't no pettin' zoo. The little critters spent all their precious time runnin' around and stealin' people's sandwiches," replied Sandy, who was in a very jovial mood.

Her words only made the springy sponge laugh even harder, which she quickly joined into only moments later.

They had reached their destination. "Well, thanks for the walk home, Sandy. Although I'm sure you know I could've handled it myself," he said, smiling up at her as they stood outside of the giant fruit.

Sandy scoffed at his words. "Yeah, sure. That's what you said earlier when you were playin' tug of war with that worm."

"Hey! What else was I supposed to do? He had my popcorn. Besides, I think I did a pretty good job at handling it," he replied, placing his hands on his hips as he showed off his smug smile.

She crossed her arms over her chest. "Sure. If ya call being dragged all the way to the port-o-potty and gettin' dunked in the toilet 'handling it'."

The sponge felt the embarrassment creeping up on him, causing him to back off from his ego. "Eesh, you're right about that. Well, Gary must be starved, I'd better get in there. Thanks for the fun day, Sandy!"

"No, thank **you**. I got a real kick out of seein' you used as a plunger," she laughed.

SpongeBob rolled his eyes as he playfully bounced his head from side to side. "Hardy har har, that's all **I** have to say."

"You just said more by sayin' that last part," she pointed out.

"Darn it! Goodnight, Sandy. See you later," he waved to her as he headed for the steel door of his home.

"Night, SquarePlunge!" she said jokingly while waving back.

Her little remark caused his cheeks to flush deep pink. He stood in the doorway, holding the door open a crack so that he could watch her disappear down the road.

He sighed dreamily to himself. Ahh, what was a sponge to do with himself? His delicate little heart almost couldn't take the pressure that her charm dispensed upon him.

"Meow? (What are you doing?)"

"AHHH!" SpongeBob screeched in fear of his pet snail, who had snuck up behind him.

"Oh, hey, Gary. Whatcha been up to?"

"Meow (Oh, nothing special. Just finished watching the newest episode of that new western show.)"

SpongeBob lit up at the mention of it. "Ooh, you mean that one with the lady who was rescued by that mysterious cowboy dressed in black?"

"Meow (Yep, that's the one.)"

"Ooh!" the sponge jumped in excitement. "Maybe if I hurried feeding you and brushing my teeth, I could catch the rerun! Ooh, I'll go get your dinner _right now!"_ he dashed into the kitchen.

The snail was surprised by his giddiness. "Meow (Gee, never seen him so excited to open a can. Oh, wait, what am I saying? This is **Papa-Bob **I'm talking about.)"

Gary slithered his way into the kitchen and watched as his owner opened the usual can of Snail-Po. "Oh, Gary, Sandy's so funny. She called me 'SquarePlunge' after I got my head dunked into a toilet! Dahaha!" laughed SpongeBob as he fumbled with the can opener.

Gary cocked a brow. "Meow (She was insulting you.)"

"I know! Isn't it great?" he bit his lip in a smile.

Well, it wasn't exactly unlike SpongeBob to not quite understand an insult. After all, Squidward hurled whatever cruel, vicious words he could at him on a daily basis, and the sponge **still** took them as compliments!

"Here you go, Gare." He set the green food bowl down in front of the snail.

SpongeBob let out another dreamy sigh. "Ahh. Sandy's so pretty and kind, I'll bet everyone just loved her back home in Texas. And she's so smart, too. Whew. You know, there was this one time where she…"

Gary stared up at his owner as he gushed about his furry friend. The sponge rambled on and on until his words seemed to get jumbled up together to the point where it didn't even sound like English. Basically, all the snail could hear was, "Wa, wa, wa, wa, wa, wa, wa… Wa!"

"She's really something special, Gary. Her voice is strong like an age-old oak tree, yet as soft and delicate as the velvety petals of a red, red rose."

The sudden eloquent language of his usually simple-minded owner came as a shock to the snail. Since when did he speak like this, other than when he was in the presence of a Krabby Patty? It was almost… Poetic. In fact, after Gary thought for a few moments, he recalled quite a few times earlier that week when the sponge had uttered some sort of interesting choice of words.

"Meow? (You okay?)"

SpongeBob was snapped out of his trance and glanced down at his pet. "Huh? Oh, yeah, I'm just fine, Gary. I'm going to go make these teeth extra squeaky clean and jump into some cozy pj's before I catch up with that show! Be back soon, Gare!" he sang the last part of his sentence as he marched out of the kitchen.

Well, this was certainly interesting. Papa-Bob had a crush on Sandy, and it seemed to bring out his smart, poetic side a little bit! Gary wondered if Sandy had any clue about his feelings, or better yet if she possibly felt the same way.

Yes, this was interesting… Very interesting indeed. Gary's mischievous side was kicking in the more he thought about Papa-Bob's little secret.

He grinned widely before he made a point to slurp up his food as fast as he could. The little busybody had plans.

* * *

_~French Narrator~_

"One tube of toothpaste later."

"Sheesh, _that_ was a bad idea! Gary, don't ever try to get the seal off of toothpaste by putting it through the wringer. Now all those towels have to be cleaned," SpongeBob explained as he came into the living room.

"Meow (No worries there.)" The snail then casually slithered his way towards the stairs.

"Hey, where ya going, Gare? Aren't you gonna watch the rerun with me?" asked SpongeBob, a bit disappointed.

Gary turned around to look at him. "Meow, meow (Nah, don't worry, I'll be re-watching that thing all day tomorrow. I'm sleepy. Goodnight, Papa-Bob.)"

SpongeBob smiled. "Okay, go get some shuteye, you little rascal you!"

Gary faked a wide grin and headed up the stairs.

Sure, he'd get some shuteye… Right after he wrote a little something for a certain someone to read.

The next two and a half hours of Gary's time were spent writing a little sweet note for good ol' miss Sandy. The snail sat at his owner's desk in the mostly darkened room, writing down some of the words that had come from Papa-Bob's mouth earlier that evening.

He stared down at the piece of paper that was illuminated by the dim lamp. Gary paused; pencil gripped between his teeth as he looked out the window at the glowing moon.

The letter was almost finished. Just one more word… But wait! He almost forgot to mention what Papa-Bob had said about Sandy's voice.

Moments later, it was done. Voila! "Meow! (Ooh, she's going to get a real surprise when she wakes up- )"

"Hmm, hmm, hmm, La, dee, dee," a familiar voice hummed.

Oh, no! Papa-Bob must've finished with his program.

The snail hastily turned off the lamp, jumped from the desk, paper in mouth, and managed to do one more thing before-

"Gary, that was a fantastic episode! I just loved every minute of it," the sponge yawned, stretching out his arms. "But now it's time for bed." He hopped up onto his tall mattress and pulled the cover over himself. "Goodnight, Gare."

"Meow (Goodnight.)" That response didn't come from Gary himself, who was now on his way to Sandy's Treedome. Little did the sponge know, there was a tape recorder hidden under his bed that had uttered that reply. Very clever little snail indeed.

* * *

_The next morning…_

As part of her yearly summer tradition, Sandy had planted a little flowerbed of colorful flowers right under her oak tree.

"Hmm, hmm, hmm, hmm," she happily hummed to herself, dressed in her gardening hat and gloves as she tended to the flowers.

She inhaled with delight. "Ahh, nothin' like a little sweet air in the summertime!"

She took her watering pot and poured it gently over the delicate blooms. Suddenly, the sound of crunching could be heard.

"Huh? What is that?" she stuck her hand down into the soil to partially pull out a nematode. "Hey, just what do ya think you're doin' messin' with **my** hard work?!" she pulled harder until the creature came fully out, holding something in its mouth.

"What in tarnation?" she questioned, now filled with curiosity at her findings.

She pulled the nematode off and uncrumpled the paper. What was written wasn't anything she could've expected.

_Your eyes are as dreamy as the dark night sky, swirling and sparkling till the day you die_

_Your heart is as big as the shining moon above, filled with kindness, compassion, and never-ending love_

_Your soul flies as high as the fragile scallops do, touching and filling everyone you meet, through and through_

_Your smile is as elegant as the crystal-clear water; warm, inviting, how it makes my heart flutter_

_But most of all, my love, your voice is as strong as the strongest of age-old oak trees, yet soft and velvety as a red, red rose, oh, how dear you are to me._

Sandy was speechless. Who could've written such a heartfelt thing? Especially to someone as tough as her? Then again, she did have a soft side from time to time.

"Oh, my… If only Granny Cheeks were here to see this thing…" she spoke aloud to herself.

Gary sat outside of the Treedome, watching as Sandy's breath was taken away by his, or rather Papa-Bob's, special delivery. After all, they were **his** words… He just didn't know they had been written down for him.

She didn't know what to do with herself. Whoever had written this little lovefest of a poem must've been someone special.

Oh, if only she had a single clue.

* * *

**A/N: Thanks for reading! I'm not too sure how many chapters this story will have… I don't think it'll be very long, as I kind of already have a pretty good idea of how it will go. Stay tuned.**


	2. Chapter 2: Mystery in the wee hours

**Disclaimer: I do not own SpongeBob SquarePants or any of its characters.**

**Flowery Poems**

Well, this was certainly a strange occurrence.

Who could've known that on a typical summer day in Bikini Bottom, Sandra Cheeks had become the muse of a mysterious, unknown person with a love for poetry? It was strange and unexpected, yet… It felt almost flattering to the young squirrel.

Several hours after reading and pondering about the mind-boggling little letter, Sandy paced back and forth, paper in hand, trying to sort through the millions of questions running through her mind.

She paced and paced the floor, talking aloud to herself about this situation. Who could've written such a thing? More importantly, just **who** was it who had their eye on her? What was it about her that this person adored so much? Well, she already partially knew the answers to that as they were, quite literally, in the very palm of her hand.

She paused; taking a glance at the paper in her hand. "Smile as elegant as the crystal-clear water…" she raised a brow at that line. She then turned towards the small mirror hanging on her wall and bared her large buckteeth in a smile.

She shook her head. "What the heck is this person talkin' about?" She then continued to pace, only to take yet another glance at the paper. "How dear you are to me… Well, I don't know how in the world I could be when I don't even **know who you are**."

It was interesting to her how the flip side of the paper had a red-colored heart drawn on it. Now, who would do that? In her eyes, only a child would. But then again, it couldn't have been a child because of the way it was written. Usually, children just look at things and say, "Ooh, pretty!" But they **don't** say that a person's voice is as "strong as the strongest of age-old oak trees." Well… If only she knew what **kind** of a child had thought of those words. He had said them, and a certain sneaky snail had written them down for him.

Sandy shook her head again. "Who in the name of Willy the Beaver could've written such a thing?" She wondered aloud, frustrated.

Just then, as if perfectly on cue, her house phone rang. She set the paper down and picked the bouncing phone off the receiver. "Hello?" She asked in her strong Texan accent.

"Hiya, Sandy! It's me, SpongeBob," the familiar, squeaky voice spoke on the other end.

The squirrel rolled her eyes. Ahoy, Captain Obvious! "Gee, I wouldn't have thought it was you, SpongeBob," she spoke in a sarcastic yet playful tone.

Her tone made the sponge feel all giddy and excited, which he could barely conceal. He bit his lip and clenched his fingers together to relieve his happy feelings. "Dahahaha! Well, now you know, silly. Anyways, Sandy, how goes it?" He asked, leaning against his kitchen table.

Sandy didn't want to reveal to anyone the little newfound secret she was hiding. She scratched the back of her head and shrugged. "Oh, it's uh… It's goin', alright! What did ya want to talk to me about, SpongeBob?"

The sponge stared down at his fingernails as he worked up the courage for an answer to give her. "Oh, I was just wondering if maybe you would like to join me for a picnic in Jellyfish Fields later on. I don't think we've had one in a while."

Sandy gave it some thought. She did have a few plans to carry out in town that day, but perhaps she could cut them a little bit short. "Why, sure! That sounds real nice. I could bring some of my world-famous peanut and coral cookies!"

The sponge on the other end cocked a brow at her statement. "_World_-famous?" He questioned.

Sandy sighed. "Alright, **town**-famous. Let me have my fun!"

Her remark made him burst into a fit of laughter. "Hahaha! Whatever you say, _superstar_." He giggled his square head off.

Sandy couldn't help but smile at the sound of his cutesy little munchkin voice. "Alright, alright, calm your shorts. I'll be there."

SpongeBob smiled. "Great! Meet me at the top of the biggest hill."

"Oh, SpongeBob?" She asked before he could hang up.

"Yeah?"

"Y'all better bring them seaweed sandwiches or I'll wring all the water out of that neck of yours."

SpongeBob chuckled, assuming she was just poking fun. "Hahaha, good one, Sandy! Uh, Sandy?" The phone had gone silent. Maybe she w_asn't_ joking.

SpongeBob gulped and stood up straight. "Heh, heh, sandwiches it is."

She smiled. "That's better. Catch ya later!"

SpongeBob giggled. "Hehe, bye!" The sponge placed the purple shell-phone down on the table. He stood there as he sighed; biting his lip and staring at the phone. He then caught a familiar coloring out the corner of his eye. He looked down to see Gary just sitting there, staring at him.

"What?" He asked.

Gary rolled his eyes. "Meow (It's lunchtime.)"

"Oh! Psh, how could I forget?" The sponge went on with his business as he prepared the snail's meal. Gary watched as he dropped cans, cooking utensils, and many other objects onto his head as he dug through the kitchen cabinets for a fresh can of Snail-Po. It seemed he was just a _bit_ distracted by thoughts of a certain squirrel.

"Fish-Paste. Oh, barnacles! SWEET MOTHER OF PEARL AND ALL THAT IS HOLY! OWWW!" He cursed as the items fell. The snail rolled his eyes once again. "Meow (Pfft, sea sponges and their love affairs.)"

* * *

_~French Narrator~_

"Meanwhile."

Before her appointment with SpongeBob, Sandy had decided to do some much-needed 'fishing' around town; no pun intended. She had given it some thought and figured that perhaps she might've been able to ask a few people some questions about poetry, whether they read it, whether they liked it, whether they even knew what it was, etc. But unfortunately, she had no luck. Every person she asked either responded with, "Ew! who reads poetry?" Or, "What's a po-et-try?" A few people putting emphasis on the syllable 'try', including Patrick.

Sandy had asked almost the entire town, even Larry the Lobster! But alas, she should've known better, as all he could think to respond with was, "Hey, poetry's awesome, dude! What is it?"

As it approached late afternoon, Sandy decided to call it quits for the day and head over to Jellyfish Fields. She tried to convince herself that she **would** find the mysterious person who wrote the poem. But then again, what if she just didn't? What if she was to never find this person who, apparently, seemed to care a great deal about her and admired her? Only time would tell.

After arriving at the top of the hill where the silly sponge told her to meet him at, the two sat across from each other on the sprawled-out blanket with the food items. Luckily, SpongeBob had made a point **not** to forget the sandwiches.

After some chit-chatting and chowing down on her 'town-famous' cookies, the two stared out at the horizon; all orange and yellow. The soft, summer breeze in the water swirled around them, creating a warm and gentle feeling of comfort for the two friends.

They both sat in silence, knees hugged to their chests as they watched the different families of jellyfish swim around them. Sandy spoke up as she watched a small jellyfish float by her helmet. "So, how's ole Mr. K doin'?"

SpongeBob looked up at her. "You mean Mr. Krabs? Oh, he's doing fantastic! He's happy because he deducted some money from my paycheck after I accidentally broke a window," he smiled, acting rather happy.

Sandy looked at him questioningly. Didn't **anything** bother this guy? "Well, uh… That's too bad," she said, rubbing the back of her helmet.

SpongeBob shrugged. "Eh, if he's happy, I'm happy." He smiled.

A few moments passed. Sandy let out a happy sigh. "Ain't this sunset just amazing? I could stare at it forever." Little did she know, the sponge next to her was thinking the very same thing, but not about the sun. He stared lovingly at the squirrel, amused by her smile. "Yeah," he replied.

"_Gosh, she's so beautiful. What would a… What did Squidward say I was again? Oh, yeah. Simpleton. What would a dull, feeble simpleton like me do without such an exquisite, breath of fresh water such as this creature? If only she knew just how truly wonderful she is… Especially to me…" _

Sandy was thinking other thoughts as she sat next to her porous friend. _"What am I gonna do about that dang poem? What if I never find the varmint who wrote it? Aw, I guess it ain't really a big deal. Maybe it was just a prank… A silly little joke." _The idea of it just being some practical joke made the most sense to her. Although, who would be dumb enough to prank Sandy butt-kicking Cheeks?

* * *

_Later that night…_

It was the wee hours of the night as Sandy sat in her bedroom chair, eyes open wide and bloodshot. It was dark in the treehouse, with only the dim light of the moon peeking through the window. All she could think about was that lousy poem. Well, it wasn't exactly 'lousy', per se, but it was lousy not knowing who had written something that, whether she wanted to admit it or not, really tugged at her heart.

"This is crazy. This isn't gonna solve a ding-dang thing just sittin' here in the dark. I need to get some shut- " before she could finish her sentence, a strange noise from somewhere inside the dome could be heard.

"…eye…" she finished. She shot up out of her chair and headed downward. Moments later, she stood in the empty dome, baseball bat in hand, prepared to swing at whatever it was that dared to intrude on her privacy.

"Whoever's there, you better show yourself now. I didn't steal this bat from Patrick for nothin'!" She scanned the room with her watery eyes.

Silence.

Maybe it was just the wind. Or maybe even her imagination. After all, a tired squirrel can imagine a_ll sorts_ of things in the middle of the night. After giving up the battle, Sandy turned back towards her tree to head back to her room.

_**Squish**_

Because of the darkness in the dome, she could barely see anything. She had stepped in her own flowerbed, crushing a few of them. Sandy growled. "Grr, darn these giant skis I've got for feet!"

She angrily pulled her now soil-covered foot. But there was also something else stuck to her foot… Something scratchy and bright white. "What the heck…?" She bent down and peeled off the paper from her foot. What the blazes was this? Was this there before? Or was it?...

She gasped, realizing what she had discovered. She charged up her tree and turned on her lamp. Squinting from the sudden brightness of the light, she tried her hardest to focus on what was written.

_You are a vision of beauty, my dear_

_With your courage and strength so powerful, there is nothing that you fear_

_The sight of your shining locks of golden-brown fur sends me to the Heavens_

_All the little things that you do have taught me an unforgettable lesson_

_No matter what Neptune tosses in my way_

_Whether I am broken, torn-down, or can't fix things with what I say_

_You will always be there to remind me that there's nothing in this world I can't do_

_Nothing, no, nothing is impossible, as long as I've got you_

The squirrel's eyes grew wider than they ever had. It was a good thing that she was inside her treehouse, or else she'd be witnessing a certain mollusk escaping from her territory as fast as he could. It seemed Papa-Bob must've been uttering some more interesting words for the snail to secretly pen down for him.

And **just** when she had thought it was only a prank.


	3. Chapter 3: Thinking the impossible

**Disclaimer: I do not own SpongeBob SquarePants or any of its characters.**

**Flowery Poems**

Standing near her dimly lit lamp, Sandy could hardly believe her eyes. She stared down at the poem, reading its heartfelt words once more.

"_Nothing, no, nothing is impossible, as long as I've got you…" _The dazed squirrel shook her head rapidly in disbelief after reading those touching words. There she was, reading yet another love letter, in her pajamas, in the middle of the dark night. What was this? She had already questioned multiple people in town about poetry, and no one was interested. Some had never even _heard_ of poetry, which was mad ridiculous in her eyes.

She stumbled to her rocking chair, feeling a wave of questions and confusion wash over her. This just didn't make any sense. "A vision of beauty"? She hadn't washed her face in months! Her "courage and strength so powerful"? Sure, she was brave and strong in more ways than one, but in her mind, she could also be mean and scary. Of course, in a way, she was proud of who she was, but sometimes she could admit that she could get just a _little_ out of hand. After all, she did practically almost kill Patrick years ago when he insulted Texas. Ah, yes, she remembered that like it was yesterday… He must've remembered it, too, seeing as how many permanent scars he must've had after getting his butt so brutally kicked.

She glanced at the poem a few times, trying to make it all make sense. Obviously, _someone_ out there liked her for who she was. More than that, they _loved_ her, they _adored_ her, from the looks of the words used in the poems.

Who could it have been? It certainly couldn't have been Mr. Krabs, he was far too old for her. Besides, he already had two loves: Money and Mrs. Puff. And It obviously wasn't Patrick. He couldn't even spell, let alone write a thoughtful poem.

Maybe it was that Fred guy? Nah, it couldn't have been him. He was too obsessed with hurting his leg all the time to even think of writing a poem. Perhaps it was Plankton? The evil little genius did, years back, have a bit of a fling with Mr. Krabs's own mother behind his computer wife's back. But then again, he was too obsessed with the Krabby Patty formula to think of anything else. Besides, why would he even glance at someone like Sandy anyway?

Then there was Larry, who Sandy always thought of as kind of cute. But she had already questioned him, and he had proven that he was made of muscle, not brains or lovey-dovey poems. Not only that, but his vocabulary mainly consisted of "bros" and "hey, mans". Not the type of person to write such sweet, moving words such as what was written in the poems.

Who else? No one she could think of off the top of her head. Except… Maybe… No, it couldn't possibly be…

Sandy shook her head once again, straightening out her thoughts. What in Neptune's name was she thinking? It couldn't have been **SpongeBob**. Sure, the little guy wasn't as dumb as Patrick; at least he could read. But there was _no_ way he could write such beautiful words or even feel such a way about her. No way. Out of the question.

The squirrel couldn't take this madness at such a late hour, so she decided to try and get some shuteye so that she could waste even _more_ precious time thinking about this silliness in the morning.

As she shut off the lamp and crawled into bed, the meaningful words flooded her mind. Strangely enough, the voice in her head that spoke those words sounded vaguely familiar… But she couldn't quite put her finger on whose voice it was. She slowly closed her eyes; a small, pleasant little smile creeping up on her lips. Even though this mystery was driving her crazy, she just couldn't help but feel all fuzzy inside when she thought of those poems.

* * *

_~French Narrator~_

"Some days later."

A good five days or so had passed, and Sandy continued to receive a new poem each night. It had gotten to the point where the scientist was _expecting_ a new one every evening; she even stayed up late to try and catch whoever the sneaky person was but to no avail.

More poems meant more thoughtful, enchanting words written to dazzle her. Well, she certainly _was_ dazzled after giving it all some good thought. Whoever this person was, she could feel herself falling in love just by their words alone. She was bound to find him someday; she just wasn't sure when.

It was approaching 8 o'clock in the evening in Bikini Bottom. Sandy had been in town all day, running errands and chatting with a few people she realized she had missed the other day when she was on her poet hunt. She had only _thought_ she'd spoken with everyone in town about it before, but it was easy to lose track.

Sandy walked through the local park as the sun slowly made its way down. She looked around at the few fish-folks that were around. She sighed, hanging her head as she decided to take a load off underneath a tree. What a boring, empty day.

She sat with her back pressed against the tree. She stared up at the sky, asking Neptune for answers. Suddenly, she could feel a tickling sensation on her leg. Was it another nematode?

"What in tar- " she looked up, seeing the all-too-familiar face of Gary, who was sitting casually on her leg and purring. She smiled and giggled. "Well, hey there, little feller. What are you doin' here without SpongeBob?"

"I could ask that very same question," a voice spoke. Sandy looked up, feeling a bit stunned and embarrassed with the sponge standing over her. Speak of the Devil! "Dahahaha! Hi, Sandy. I see you've found my sneaky little Gare Bear. Gary, what did I tell you about wandering off?" He asked, hands placed on his hips with one eyebrow raised.

His unruly pet stared blankly at him. "Meow? (Since when have you known me to listen to **any** of your rules?)"

"He's got a point there, SpongeBob," Sandy added, making SpongeBob shake his head. "Well, two intelligent minds think alike, I guess." He smiled and took a seat next to her under the tree.

"What are you doing out here, Sandy?" He asked, curiosity filling his innocent voice.

Sandy rubbed the back of her helmet. "Uh, I was just, uh- "

"Enjoying the view of the beautiful night sky? Yeah, I like to do that too sometimes, especially when I take Gary for a walk." He smiled.

She was going to correct him but figured it was best to let him think what he wanted. She smiled back. "Uh, yeah, t-that's what I was doin'. Do you always take Gary for a walk so late?"

He shrugged. "Eh, not really, just here and there. I usually like to wait 'till it gets dark so I can scare him with ghost stories, hahaha!"

Gary rolled his eyes at his foolish owner. "Meow, meow (You **THINK** it scares me, but _you're_ the one who's always jumping behind a bush anytime you hear a noise.)"

SpongeBob scoffed, waving him off. "Psh, don't be ridiculous, Gary. You know that ole SpongeBob is as tough as- " suddenly, a strange rattling noise filled the water, causing SpongeBob to hastily grab onto Sandy out of fear.

"N-n-n-nails…" he could barely speak as he trembled. Sandy scoffed at first, saying, "Aw, don't be such a scaredy-cat!" But seeing him tremble so badly made her feel bad for him; she could feel his shaking little arms. She smiled reassuringly at him. "Aw, don't worry, little buddy. It's probably just a little bug or somethin'," her soft tone of voice filled the sponge's heart with warmth. They stared at each other in the eyes for a few moments before the rattling got closer. The sponge saw this as the perfect opportunity, sitting so close to her, to ask her an important question about a certain summertime event that was to take place within the next few days.

"Hey, uh, Sandy?" He asked, his voice soft and quiet.

"Yeah?"

He glanced at the ground and bit his lip. "Um… I was wondering…"

And there were the two sources of the noise, right on cue. The sponge let go of her as soon as he heard the noise. Squidward came towards them, shaking a baby rattle in one tentacle and carrying a flashlight in the other. He sighed heavily. "Here, rocky, rocky, rocky, here rock- "

"He doesn't like to be called that!" Patrick protested as he walked alongside the octopus. Squidward sighed once again, stopping himself dead in his tracks. "Why not? That's the stupid rock's name, isn't it?"

Patrick gasped and felt insulted. "He is NOT stupid! Just because he's a rock, doesn't mean that he has no brain!" He said, referring to his little pet rock.

"Meow (Apparently, Tubby hasn't heard of the phrase, 'dumb as a rock'.)" Gary added, sitting just feet away from the starfish and octopus.

"Oh, hey, guys!" Patrick greeted, smiling with his baby tooth and waving.

"Hey, Patrick! And hey, Squidward! Gosh, we weren't expecting you two here," said SpongeBob in his usual happy tone.

Squidward crossed his arms over his chest. "Neither was I, but Sir Duncelot wouldn't stop breaking into my home until I helped him find his **precious** rock," his voice dripped with bitter mockery and sarcasm.

"And… What's with the baby rattle?" Asked Sandy, cocking a brow at the two unusual individuals.

"It's so we can find my pet rock! He wandered off somewhere," said Patrick.

"That still doesn't answer my question…"

Patrick furrowed his brows and scoffed. "Pft, he's a baby rock; babies like baby rattles, duh!"

Gary, at that moment, wished he had the hands to facepalm with. "Meow (I don't know if I can handle this much stupidity.)

"Well, we finally agree on something!" Squidward said, happily.

"What? What did he say? I didn't hear it…" Patrick was curious.

Brushing Patrick's cluelessness aside, Squidward tapped the dimming flashlight. "Well, I'm going home."

"Hey, wait! We can't go without my rock!" Patrick demanded, stomping his feet.

Squidward turned around to face him. "Patrick, I hate to say this… Well, actually, no, I don't. But I would much rather be spending the rest of my time sitting at home, sipping on some delectable, warm tea, and drenching myself in the mysterious sorrows of my delightful, wondrous world of- "

"Meow (Babbling.)"

"Yes, babl-W-WHAT?! Oooh, don't think that just because we agreed on something for once, that you can just go around insulting- "

"Oh, he didn't mean anything by it, Squidward. Right, Gare?" Asked SpongeBob, staring lovingly at his pet.

Gary shrugged. "Meow (I guess not. Whatever it takes to calm his steaming tentacles.)"

Squidward pinched his nose, attempting to calm his nerves before he exploded. Sheesh, it almost seemed like that snail was as obnoxious as his owner, but in a different way. "Whatever. We'll find your rock tomorrow, Patrick. And SpongeBob?"

The sponge looked up at his neighbor with a small smile. "Yes, Squidward?"

"Teach that snail some manners before he gets into a fight with somebody." He glared at Gary.

Gary eyed him. "Meow (If it's a fight you want, I'm always free.)"

"Gary!" SpongeBob warned, tucking Gary behind him.

Squidward growled again and ended it with a surrendering sigh. "Goodnight," he said blandly while dragging Patrick behind him.

"Goodnight, Squidward! And see ya later, Pat!" SpongeBob waved at them.

"Goodnight! Let me know if you see my rock!" Patrick shouted as he was dragged away.

SpongeBob chuckled. "I will, buddy!" With that, the sponge and squirrel stood up. "Well, it's getting late. I'd better get Gary home before he starts another war," he laughed. Sandy couldn't help but chuckle a little bit herself.

"Goodnight, SpongeBob. And you stay out of trouble. You hear me, ya little varmint?" She bent down and squinted one eye at the snail that was being held under SpongeBob's arm.

"Meow (Eh, for you, I'll try. But I make no promises.)

_A long walk to the Treedome…_

The sky grew even darker as Sandy quietly made her way to her home. The whole way there, she kept thinking of two things: What it was that SpongeBob was going to ask her, and who the heck the poet was.

"Hm, I wonder what it was that SpongeBob was gonna ask me? He probably wants to learn a new karate move or somethin'," she shook her head.

Once she reached the inside of her dome, she searched her flowerbed for another poem, but there was nothing there. Strange how whenever she was home, the intruder snuck in as he pleased. But when she was gone, he didn't dare to enter. Things only seemed to get more mysterious with each passing minute.

Hours later into the night, she continuously thought about those poems. Dear Neptune, who _was_ this person? There was no way it was just a common nobody, it had to be someone special. Someone thoughtful and intelligent. Someone who had seen many things during his lifetime. Someone who had a way with words and who valued literature.

Wait just a measly second…

Sandy's eyes busted open as she lay in her bed. She shot up, staring like a deer caught in headlights.

"No, it can't be… That's dang near impossible!"


	4. Chapter 4: Things aren't looking so good

**Hello! Just wanted to mention a little something here: After re-reading some chapters in a lot of my stories over time, (including this one), I've noticed I've repeatedly made the mistake of SpongeBob calling Gary, "Gare **_**Bare"**_** instead of "Bear". Whoopsie, sorry for that mistake. XD Anyways, here's another chapter! This story is soon to be completed.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own SpongeBob SquarePants or any of its characters.**

**Flowery Poems**

* * *

_~French Narrator~_

"An interesting Friday morning."

After tossing, turning, thinking, and losing what was left of her mind during the night, Sandy had thought hard about the possibility of who this mystery person could be. In her mind, even though it seemed completely ludicrous and just plain insane, this seemed to be the only thing that made sense to her. Why not give it a shot? What could it hurt? Nothing except her sanity, maybe.

Hesitantly making her way towards her destination, Sandy felt a lump forming in her throat. Her hands shook. Her heart raced. What was she thinking? Was this _really_ a possibility? She stopped midway on the road, questioning her own mind and heart. She shook her head. "What am I doin'? This is crazier than a horse flyin' a private jet…" she looked down at the paper in her gloved hand, thinking carefully about this situation. She gripped the paper and looked confidently onward. "Come on, ya pansy squirrel. Let's get this over with."

_A few hours later, at The Krusty Krab…_

"Thank you, come again!" Said SpongeBob as he cheerfully waved goodbye to a brand-new customer as they headed out the door. The sponge stood with his hands on his hips; feeling perfectly happy on such a fine day. Then again, it was a rarity for him to ever _not_ be happy about anything.

Just then, Mr. Krabs came scuttling over to his employee. SpongeBob turned towards him and smiled brightly. "Ahoy, Mr. K! Are things looking up for that backache you've been having?"

The crab was not in his usual, chipper mood on this day. He was irritated by the fact that his other not-so-great employee was running a bit late – not that it actually mattered all that much; Squidward was not known for his hard work. What he **was** known for was his pure laziness and a lousy attitude.

Mr. Krabs sighed as he stared out the glass doors. "Ahoy, boy-O. Me back is doin' a bit better… But me patience ain't doin' so great. Where is that no-good Tentacles? He should've been here twenty minutes ago!"

SpongeBob offered a comforting smile to his old boss. "Aw, don't worry about him, Mr. Krabs. He's probably just catching up on some important things."

Mr. Krabs scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest. "I ain't worried about _him_, I'm worried about me money! Without him here to man the register, business is as slow as ever! Not much is gettin' done around here," he shook his head.

A male fish who sat at a table, enjoying his lunch, spoke up. "I would have to disagree with that, sir. Your little dish sponge right there does more work than anyone of us in this room put together could do. I mean, just look at my Krabby Patty; it's shiny!" The green fish smiled while every other customer muttered simultaneously in agreement.

SpongeBob smiled shyly. "Hahaha! Why thank you, good sir. I like to make everything as sparkling as all of you!"

Mr. Krabs pursed his lips to the side. "Hmm… Come to think of it, you're all right. What do we need a lazy bum like him for?"

SpongeBob gasped. "Oh, no, Mr. Krabs! You're not gonna fire him, are you? Squidward may be lazy, but he's got a heart of purest gold," the sponge's eyes glistened.

The same green, male fish rolled his eyes upon hearing what SpongeBob said. "More like a heart of tarnished copper."

"Oh, no. I wouldn't _dream_ of doin' such a thing; I still like to have a barnacle, like him, to boss around and dust me desk! Arg arg arg arg arg!"

Just then, the octopus being spoken of came strutting through the doors, displaying a cocky boost of confidence for the entire restaurant to see. "Mornin', Eugene, Mornin', Robert," Squidward walked by them; his head held high and his smile incredibly obnoxious.

The sponge and crab watched him take his place at the register, both staring at him in shock and utter confusion. What in Davey Jones' Locker was he so happy about? This was already looking like a very unusual day.

The two approached the octopus at the boat register. He leaned back in his seat, tentacles behind his head and feet propped up on the cash register. The particular smile he wore was a rarity. One could even go as far as to say that that grin was its own endangered species.

"What's all this hoopla about? _Eugene_? _**Robert**_? Since when did ye become so formal?" Mr. Krabs questioned, eyeing his employee suspiciously.

Squidward sighed as happily as ever. "You two simple-minded ninnies couldn't _possibly_ comprehend the idea of me being in a good mood, could you?"

Mr. Krabs furrowed his brows. "No, because you're always blubbering in your cola about how **miserable **you are. I don't know how you'd expect anyone else to feel about ya."

"Oh, not today, Eugene, not today. This day is beautiful, this day is shining- "

"This day is gonna be long if ye don't tell us what's gotten your tentacles all twisted up." Mr. Krabs was beginning to lose his patience yet again.

Squidward closed his eyes and smiled, shrugging. "Why should it be any of your business to know? After all, you enjoy seeing my restless soul get tortured on a day-to-day basis."

Mr. Krabs looked off to the side. "True," he said under his breath.

Meanwhile, SpongeBob stood there, studying his coworkers' expression. He'd know that smile and that twinkling look in his eye anywhere. It was the same look Squidward had whenever he would stare dreamily at his clarinet!

SpongeBob rubbed the underside of his chin, which Squidward noticed. "SpongeBob, would you mind telling me what you're staring at? You're making me feel more creeped-out than usual." He cocked a brow at him.

"Hmmm… That sparkle in your eye… The shine of those pearly-white teeth… Your lack of screaming in horror…" SpongeBob snapped his fingers and smiled. "Wait, I've got it! You're in love!"

The octopus smiled smugly. "Oh, indeed I am, SpongeBob. Indeed. I. Am."

SpongeBob was overjoyed about this news. He smiled even wider. "Wow, Squidward! This is great! Who's the lucky lady?" He wiggled his brows, leaning against the register.

"For once, I honestly haven't got a clue. But whoever she is, she _sure is_ refined; something that's awfully rare in this town of misfits." Squidward displayed a small smile.

"Jerk!" A lady said angrily as she sat at a table. Of course, Squidward couldn't care less about who he insulted.

Mr. Krabs couldn't take his employee seriously. Who did he think he was fooling? "Arg arg arg arg arg!" He laughed. "And just _what_ did she do that makes her so refined? Did she write ya a little love note?" He leaned forward, peering snootily at Squidward.

Squidward pulled something out from his pocket. Oh, and just when poor ole Mr. Krabs didn't think this man could get **any** cockier. "As a matter of fact, _she did_."

Mr. Krabs' expression became one of dead-seriousness and panic. He gulped. Squidward then went on to read what was written on that special note.

_My dearest mystery man,_

_Your loving and tender words have captured my heart,_

_From the warmth of your admiration to the intricate details you know about me, you must not be very far._

_Your collection of heartfelt thoughts has reached the very depths of my soul,_

_They have stuck with me all the time, even everywhere I go._

_So, I ask you, mystery man: Are you willing to find me at the Masquerade Ball,_

_So that I can find out your true identity, once and for all?_

Mr. Krabs's mouth gaped open from pure shock. Squidward smiled smugly. "Pure elegance, is it not?"

"It sure is, Squidward… She must really like your poetry…" said SpongeBob, scratching the back of his head awkwardly. _"Squidward writes poetry?"_ He wondered in his mind.

Squidward could barely contain his excitement. "I know! She must've heard me recite some of my best work in the park; I do readings there from time to time." He exuded arrogance.

"Yeah, **we know**." A man from a table pointed out. From the tone of his voice, it was obvious he hadn't enjoyed the things Squidward had recited.

Mr. Krabs stood there, staring with widened eyes. "So, let me get this straight… You've been asked out, by a mysterious lady, to that fancy Masquerade party that's bein' held at that new oversized library tomorrow?"

"I sure have been, Eugene. Read it and weep." He held the paper out for him to take.

Mr. Krabs pushed his tentacle away with his claw. "Ehh, no thanks. I don't feel like throwin' up in me mouth twice. If you boys need me, I'll be on the phone with Mrs. Puff about the Masquerade tomorrow." He scuttled over towards his office. Before going inside, he turned around. "And get to work!" He then slammed the door shut.

SpongeBob turned back toward Squidward, offering a slight smile. "Well, congratulations, Squidward! I hope she's as nice as she sounds."

Squidward pulled out a magazine. "Thank you, SpongeBob. And I hope that we won't be seeing you there." He smiled, not even trying to hide the fact that he was being insulting.

SpongeBob stared at the ground, chuckling awkwardly. "Ahaha, I don't think you'll have to worry about that, Squidward… I don't have a date."

"Oh, what a shame. Maybe you could bring Patrick! I'm sure he's got that old Halloween wig and dress sitting around in his basement somewhere. Heh, heh, heh!" He laughed hysterically in the sponge's face. That bitter octopus had no shame whatsoever.

SpongeBob, who usually was too oblivious to recognize when he was being insulted, felt a little hurt by his own neighbor and coworker poking fun at him. He played along with a laugh. "Haha, yeah, I-I'll ask him if he does… Haha…" he stared at the ground sadly and continued on with his work.

* * *

_Later…_

It was 6 in the evening, and SpongeBob dragged his feet toward his pineapple. The whole way there, he couldn't help a strange feeling building up inside him. He actually didn't even have a clue that his neighbor wrote poetry. SpongeBob had always wanted to write it, but he just couldn't seem to pen down his thoughts onto paper. However, he didn't have much of a problem coming up with a few things here and there, verbally. In fact, Sandy was always his inspiration for such deep words.

As he came in through the steel door, he shut it and stood a bit slumped over. "Gary, I'm home," he spoke depressingly.

Gary slithered into the room and immediately noticed the look on his owner's face. "Meow? (What's wrong?)"

SpongeBob sighed, feeling low and not at all like his usual self. "Oh, nothing. It was just a little slow at work today; nothing too important." He smiled weakly at his pet, who knew he wasn't telling the truth.

Gary eyed him as he walked toward the kitchen. "Meow? (You sure?)"

"Yeah, I'm sure. I hope you're hungry for…" he paused to yawn. "Dinner tonight, Gary." Before he could reach the kitchen, the purple shell-phone rang on the table next to the couch. "Meow (I'll get it.)" The snail hopped up on the table, hitting the 'answer' button on the phone with his eye. "Meow? (Hello?)"

A few moments later, Gary looked over at SpongeBob. "Meow (It's Sandy.)" SpongeBob lit up like a Christmas tree upon knowing it was her. He rushed over and picked up the phone. "Yeah, Sandy, what do you need?" He asked, enthusiasm returning to his voice.

"Hey, SpongeBob. I'm just callin' to let you know I won't be able to go Jellyfishin' with ya tomorrow," she said.

SpongeBob's smile faded, his nose drooping. "Oh… I see. What other fun things have you got planned?" He asked, twirling his finger around the phone cord.

"Well, I'm gonna be heading over to that fancy summer Masquerade… thing… tomorrow. I'm hopefully gonna be meetin' up with somebody there."

SpongeBob felt like he had been punched in the stomach. **He** was supposed to be the one to take her, not some random guy. He was the one who was supposed to hold her hand and dance close to her. And he was the one who was supposed to confess his love for her, but it seemed like his chance had been pulled right out from underneath him. He had heard about this fancy party for weeks, and it had taken him **weeks** to work up the courage to ask her. When he realized he was too scared to ask her, he figured he could still spend some time with her in Jellyfish Fields; just the two of them. Well, so much for that now.

"SpongeBob? You still there?"

He was deep in thought. "Huh? Oh, yeah. Gee, that's wonderful news, Sandy. I-I hope you have a great time…" he swallowed hard and glanced down at his feet forlornly.

"Thanks for understanding, SpongeBob. You sure are a mighty good friend." She smiled at the other end. Friend? Yes, he was a good friend. But truly, he wanted them to be more.

Gary sat there, watching the entire conversation. A few moments later, they spoke their goodbyes. "Goodnight, Sandy." He hung up and sighed. What now? He looked over at Gary, who was still staring at him. "Meow? (What was that all about?)"

SpongeBob shrugged, offering a weak smile to his pet. "Oh, nothing, Gare. It's not important. Sandy was just letting me know she can't make it for Jellyfishing tomorrow."

"Meow? (Why not?)"

SpongeBob sighed, walking towards the couch to sit down. "Well, there's this big Masquerade Ball being held at that new fancy library tomorrow, and she's busy going there with someone…" he pretended to sound fine, but the sadness in his voice could not be disguised.

"Meow… (Oh, I see… )" Well, so much for Gary writing down those poems. "Meow? (Who is she going with?)"

SpongeBob shrugged again. "Mm, I'm not sure. Must be someone really wonderful. She said the person has been leaving her the most beautiful poems in the most mysterious way."

Gary's eyes widened at the exact same time as SpongeBob's did. How was it possible they both knew something was terribly wrong with this picture? "Why are you looking like that, Gary?" Asked SpongeBob, worry filling his voice.

"Meow… (I could ask you that same question… )

* * *

**A/N: I heard today is SpongeBob's Birthday Blowout! That's so exciting! Happy birthday, SpongeBob! **


	5. Chapter 5: The truth and a manicure

**Disclaimer: I do not own SpongeBob SquarePants or any of its characters.**

**Flowery Poems**

SpongeBob and his pet snail, Gary, stood across from each other in the living room, both filled with questions and feelings of worry and utter confusion. Gary had more questions than his owner did. All that time, the sneaky mollusk had been writing down SpongeBob's heartfelt words and feelings and piecing them delicately together in the form of poetry. He snuck out every night and sneakily delivered them to the squirrel, without her knowing who it was. He assumed that she would be smart enough to realize that they were SpongeBob's words, and would become dazzled by the idea. But according to his owner, she had found someone else.

And as for SpongeBob, well… He was having a bit of trouble trying to piece things together in his mind. Sandy was planning to go to the 'Bikini Bottom Masquerade of Enchantment' the next evening, and only moments beforehand, she had mentioned in their phone call that she had been receiving mysterious poems from what seemed like a classy gentleman who admired her deeply. Meanwhile, Squidward, of **all** people, had also received a little poem/invitation to find the _other_ mysterious person at the Masquerade Ball. Was this all what the sponge was thinking it out to be? Were Squidward and Sandy… Writing **love** poems to each other? The thought made SpongeBob's head spin and his stomach wrench. Not only because he loved and adored the squirrel, but because it seemed _she_ was in love with Squidward.

"Gary…" SpongeBob spoke softly, staring worriedly into space.

Gary looked up at him. "Meow? (Yeah?)"

"Do you ever get that feeling that… Things just aren't adding up?"

"Meow, meow (I feel that way all the time. I **especially** feel that way because it baffles me how you still hang out with Patrick.)"

SpongeBob shook his head, nausea washing over him. He held onto the side of his square head. All this confusion and suspicion was giving him a massive headache. "Gary, Squidward told me earlier today that he received a poem inviting him to the Ball… And I think I've got a pretty good idea who it is…"

"Meow? (Who?)"

The sponge looked out his round, living room window and stared out in the direction of Sandy's Treedome. "Sandy…" he nearly whispered, his voice low and breathy. "And I think that Squidward…" he sniffed. "My dearest friend and neighbor… Has also been the one sending her all those poems she gushed to me about just moments ago…" his eyes welled up with tears at the terrible idea.

Gary gasped. "Meow! (What?! This wasn't supposed to happen!)"

SpongeBob looked down at the snail, cocking one brow and giving him a questioning look. "What do you mean by _that_, Gary?"

Oh, no. The snail's cover had been blown. His large, round eyes darted around the room. He began sweating and slowly slithered backward until he was hidden underneath the couch. "Meow… (Nothing… I didn't say anything…)"

SpongeBob furrowed his brows at the red, glowing eyes that were peeking out from under the old couch. "Yes, you did, Gary. I heard you. Just **what** was it that 'wasn't supposed to happen'?" The sponge slowly came closer to the couch.

Gary trembled. "Meow, meow (Really, it's nothing, I swear! I guess Sandy isn't as smart as she wants everyone to think…)"

SpongeBob felt anger building inside of him from his pet's remark about his love. "What's that supposed to mean, Gary? You come out from under that couch, RIGHT. NOW."

"Meow (I guess she figures you're too dumb to think those kinds of things about her…)"

At this point, SpongeBob was fed up with the games. "That's it, Gary, I've had about enough of this."

The snail turned around under the couch, preparing to slither deeper under it. But SpongeBob grabbed the back of his shell and began to pull as hard as he could. "You had something to do with this, didn't you?!" The sponge was furious as he sweated and struggled to pull out the mollusk, who didn't want to give up the fight.

Gary was struggling as well, trying desperately to escape the sponge's hands. He pulled and pulled himself as hard as he could, causing sand to fly up from underneath the couch. The sound of the snail struggling to get away was similar to that of a revving, screeching boat engine.

"Ugh, COME. OUT!" SpongeBob yelled and grunted one last time before the snail had finally given up. Because he had pulled so hard, he flew backward, snail in arms, and slammed against the wall. SpongeBob opened his eyes and shook his head rapidly. He then stood up, refocusing his attention on the situation at hand.

"Gary the Snail, I want to know what you've done. And no more games, do you understand?" He placed his hands on his hips as he stared him down.

Gary sighed and stared at the ground. He figured he might as well tell his owner the truth. SpongeBob deserved to know everything. "Meow… (Alright. I've been the one writing poems to Sandy, not Squidward.)"

SpongeBob gasped. Did his ears deceive him? "Gary, are you trying to tell me that **you're** in love with Sandy? And since when do you write poetry?" He cocked a brow.

Gary rolled his eyes. "Meow (No, you kelp-for-brain. And that's what I'm trying to tell you. I **don't** write poetry, _you_ do.)"

What was this? SpongeBob was more confused than he had ever been in his life. "I **do**? B-but I don't understand… I don't remember writing anything down…" he scratched his head.

"Meow, meow, meow (Let me explain. You may not **write** poetry, but you sure **speak **it whenever you're gushing about that squirrel. You see, over the past week, you've said some **very** interesting things about her; her beautiful smile, her eyes, her 'breathtaking' heart, and soul. I figured since you're too much of a weenie to write her love letters yourself, I've done it for you. But I guess she thinks you're not 'smart' enough or 'spontaneous' enough to ever even think of doing such a thing for her.)" The sponge stood over his snail, taking in all this unbelievable information.

"Meow, meow (So, I guess she figures that because Squidward is such a nerd and is really intelligent and 'eloquent' and all that, **he **must be the one who's been sending her all the poems.)"

SpongeBob was speechless. His mouth gaped open after everything his pet had just told him. "So, what you mean to tell me is… You've written down all my innermost thoughts and tender words about Sandy, been sneaking into her Treedome late at night to deliver them, she's been dazzled by them, and because I'm not smart or 'eloquent' enough, she thinks that **Squidward** is the one who is deeply, desperately, and wholeheartedly in love with her?"

Gary stared blankly at him. "Meow (Yep, pretty much. Personally, I think she's nuts for thinking that **Squidward** could be so romantic, especially toward her. I mean, let's be honest here, Squid's only true love is himself.)"

SpongeBob's face filled with deep sadness. How was he going to fix this? "And that's why Sandy wrote him her own poem… Because she thinks he loves her as much as I do…"

"Meow (Well, remember, she doesn't **know** you love her… Yet.)"

SpongeBob shook his head and stumbled backward onto the floor, covering his face with his hands. "Oh, Gary… I-I can't let Sandy go on thinking that Squidward must be her true love. He doesn't feel the same way about her that I do… It would crush her heart…" tears rolled down his cheeks as he felt his heart begin to crumble.

Gary slithered closer to him, offering comfort. "Meow (Then go to that ball and set things right.)"

SpongeBob's eyes peeked through the cracks of his hands. Set things right? How was he going to do that? It didn't matter. No matter what it took, he needed to find a mask to wear, go to that dang party, and tell her the truth, even if it was the last thing he did!

SpongeBob sniffed, wiping away his tears with the back of his hand. "But what if Sandy doesn't believe me? Or worse, what if she kicks my butt for not telling her how I feel sooner?" He looked into his snail's eyes with desperation.

Gary shrugged. "Meow (If she does, don't worry. She's not the only one who knows karate.)"

SpongeBob smiled weakly, allowing a small chuckle to escape his lips. "Yeah, I guess I am pretty good at it…"

"Meow (I was talking about **me**. It's not boxing matches I watch late at night, ya know.)"

SpongeBob stared blankly at him, blinking a couple of times. That snail sure had some interesting and secretive habits.

The sponge stood up; his legs firmly planted on the ground. He was sure of what to do now. He loved that squirrel with all his heart, and she deserved to know that those deep, cherishing words written about her were _not_ from Squidward, but from her sweet, kindhearted, fun-loving karate partner. Just because he was simple-minded, didn't mean he that he was incapable of thinking intelligent or meaningful thoughts or having feelings of that nature.

"You're right, Gare Bear. I thought of those words, and I said them, too- "

"Meow (And **I** wrote them down…)" Gary added, cocking a brow at his owner.

SpongeBob smiled sheepishly. "Haha, y-yeah, and you wrote them down. Sandy's the love of my life, and I'm going to that Ball tomorrow and tell her the whole truth!" He spoke with confidence as he pounded his fist into his palm.

"Meow! (That's right! But first, you need to find a mask.)"

SpongeBob snapped out of his victory speech mode and came back to reality. "Oh, yeah. I think I'll need to iron my suit and tie, too. Better get on that!" With that, he rushed up the stairs to his bedroom.

Gary smiled to himself. "Meow (Ha! Maybe, from now on, people should refer to me as, 'Gary, Matchmaking Snail of the Century'. Ah, who am I kidding? I'm the best matchmaker of all time.)"

* * *

_Meanwhile, at Sandy's house…_

The anxious squirrel sat at the picnic table, staring down at a book on scientific experimentation. She often looked up from the book and stared out at the sky through the dome; there was something on her mind that seemed to be distracting her from her usual enthrallment with science.

Sandy smiled to herself, trying to convince herself to be excited about the contents she was reading. "Let's see: if I mix the blue solution with the red one, I get…" Sandy paused, her eyes drifting over to the poem that sat to the right of the book, which was the first poem she had ever received. She sighed, closing the thick, blue book in front of her. She picked up the letter and read the words over and over. Was she really in her right mind for thinking that this was Squidward who had been leaving her these expressions of admiration? Sure, the guy was smart, somewhat sophisticated, and he sure knew a lot about things such as literature, but **him** feeling such deep emotion for anything other than, say, his clarinet? It seemed unlikely. And it never seemed like he had expressed any interest in her before. He usually just spoke to her from time to time, maybe asking her for a little help here and there, including the time he wanted to learn karate to defend himself. Or, as he called it, "tare-ra-kay."

She had searched the entire town looking for answers, but he was the only one that seemed even remotely capable of writing things such as the poems. Perhaps he was having fond thoughts of his clarinet to help him think up the poems, or maybe he was just in a good mood the whole week, except for when he was annoyed while helping Patrick find his pet rock. She had to agree with him about that, though. That starfish was quite something… Something that she would've liked to strike with her karate glove.

She shook her head. "Dagnabit, why does this have to be so gosh-dang complicated? I've already asked everybody! Nobody else could've written these stupid things." She flipped through a few pages in her book and discovered something that threatened to slap her across the face with reconsideration.

Sandy stared down at the photo of her and SpongeBob at a carnival. They stood in front of a hot dog cart, Sandy wearing her cowgirl hat and big, leather boots. She had her arm wrapped around the adorable little sponge standing next to her. He displayed the biggest, sweetest smile on that lovable little face of his.

As she examined the photo even further, she couldn't help but notice the soft, pink flush in his cheeks and the way his eyes seemed to light up the entire photo. He seemed almost bashful to be standing so close to her, yet it also seemed like he couldn't get enough of her strong arm around his side.

Sandy chuckled softly at the little red and white dome-shaped hat atop his head. He had no clue just how much his exuberant personality made her smile. The little fella was sweet, kind, and so compassionate towards others, especially towards her. For a moment, it seemed more likely for him to…

Oh, what was she thinking? SpongeBob wouldn't feel such a way about her; he couldn't have _possibly_ felt such deep, tender feelings about her. Sure, he loved everybody. He loved his job, he loved Gary, he loved life! But that didn't mean he loved **her** as well… Did it?

And besides, they were good friends. She didn't feel anything for him other than feelings of friendliness. He was her buddy, not her true love. She smiled, trying to beat those ideas into her head, even though a set of much different feelings were threatening to overtake her.

It didn't matter. She was going to meet Squidward at that library, and that was that. She stood up and shut the book closed. "Well, guess I'd better search through that ole' closet of mine and try to find a decent dress. But where am I gonna get a mask?" She tapped her finger against her chin and shrugged. "Eh, that one red dress is a little too long for me anyway. Time to break out my sowin' kit and scissors!" she ran up to her tree.

* * *

_Meanwhile, in town…_

Squidward was lucky that the local nail salon was still open at such a late hour. He sat in a light-green colored recliner in the middle of a brightly lit, lavender-colored room with a bunch of female fish inside. The vain octopus sighed to himself, his left tentacle placed behind his head while the other tentacle lay flat on the arm of the chair.

"Ah, this is the life. No SpongeBob, no lousy Krusty Krab, just me and my freshly manicured beauties." He grinned in conceitedness.

The woman with a blonde, bouffant hairstyle sat on her knees while she filed down his nails. She furrowed her brows at him in annoyance. "Yes, Mr. Test. This is certainly a wonderful little life… _for __**some**__ people_." She spoke under her breath.

Squidward cocked a brow at her, swearing he had heard her speak. "What?"

"Oh, nothing! Haha," the woman faked a wide grin and continued to file even faster than before.

"A little more off the top there," he smiled. "Oh, and by the way, my name isn't 'Test'. It's 'Tentacles'." He shut his eyes and tilted his head up smugly.

"Oh, my mistake! I could've sworn your last name was Test. You know, short for 'test my patience'." She scowled.

Squidward glared at her. "**Just** do your job," he spat.

"No problem! _Water balloon-nose…"_

"Huh?"

"Nothing!" She grinned.

Just then, Pearl and her friend, Judy, came through the doors. Pearl giggled as they carried their conversation. "I know! It was so funny. And then I said…" she cut herself off once she realized who was there in front of them.

"Ew! It's my dad's employee, Squidward," she glared.

Judy was equally disgusted by the sight of a fully-grown man getting a manicure. "Yeah, what's _he_ doing here?"

Pearl shook her head. "I don't know, but let's get out of here. This place is contaminated now!" the two girls turned right back around and left.

Squidward scoffed. "Psh, _teenagers_. Such petty simpletons."

The lady shrugged. "Could be worse; at least they're not pieces of dried-out, crumpled-up old news. _There's __**way**__ too much of that in here already."_

Squidward pounded his fist into the arm of the chair. "Alright! I think it's time for the first coat," he snarled.

The lady, for the hundredth time that evening, faked a big smile. "Of course. Which color would you like?"

Squidward glanced around the room, then squinted towards the floor. "Purple." He muttered.


	6. Chapter 6: Masquerade of Enchantment

**Disclaimer: I do not own SpongeBob SquarePants or any of its characters. **

**Flowery Poems**

And here it was, Saturday evening, 6 o'clock. The whole town was gathered together in the heart of Bikini Bottom for the 'Masquerade of Enchantment' at the brand-new library. The library seemed to be an odd place to hold a masquerade, but the town council felt it was a good idea to host the party there to attract the citizens who were interested in things such as literature. And sure enough, the town's most sophisticated folks were there, all arriving in fancy limousines and dressed to the nines in extravagant clothing.

The library was reminiscent of an old-fashioned castle found in world-famous fairy-tale novels. The place, of course, had dozens upon dozens of rows of every book that one could imagine. The building was large and deep, dark brown in the entirety of its colorings. The walls reached heights of a massive, five or six-story mansion and were decorated with old paintings of elegant fish-ladies. The floors were shiny and quite slippery- which meant bad luck for one blue, male fish, in particular. The man was dressed in a tailcoat tuxedo and was carrying a glass of fizzy punch to his date. "I've got the punch, Marissa! Whoa, whoa, WHOAAAA!" He slid wildly across the floor, just barely missing Mr. Krabs and his date (aka SpongeBob's boating schoolteacher) Mrs. Puff.

"Hey, watch where you're goin'! This tux cost me three-ninety-nine at the thrift store!" Mr. Krabs shook his claw at the man who was now lying on his back, punch spilled all over his clothing.

Mr. Krabs stood next to his second love, Mrs. Puff, wearing his black tailcoat tuxedo with a purple bowtie and a matching, glittery mask over his eyestalks. He also wore a black top-hat with a purple rim.

As for Mrs. Puff, she wore a black, short-sleeved dress with a purple sash across her waist. The dress came down towards her ankles but sat just high enough to see her little black kitten heels. The Pufferfish also wore a matching black mask over her eyes that had feathers on both ends of it. The boating instructor was a vision of beauty in the eyes of the old crustacean standing next to her. The crab was happy… Well, happy about everything except for his extremely itchy outfit and a few other things, such as the cost of his date's own outfit.

Mr. Krabs scratched the top of his eyestalks with one claw and scratched an unmentionable area near his back with the other claw. "Argh, I knew I should've washed this stinkin' thing when I brought it home. This is gonna be a nightmare!" he winced.

Mrs. Puff smiled softly at her amusing date. "Don't worry, Eugene. Why, once we're out on the dancefloor, you won't feel a thing."

"Heh, heh, sure, sweet Puff! Won't feel a single thing… _except for the pain of havin' me money flushed down the toilet on this Neptune-forsaken evening."_

Mrs. Puff peered at him, questioningly. "What was that?"

The greedy crustacean nervously rubbed the back of his claw. "Heh, nothin'!"

Mrs. Puff furrowed her brows at him. "You do know that the food and drinks don't cost anything, right, Eugene?"

He smiled sheepishly. "Sure! I know that… _but I __**didn't**__ know ye needed me to buy that frilly dress for ya at the last minute._ It cost me a fortune!_" _he shouted as he threw his claws in the air, catching everyone's attention. Mrs. Puff glared at him.

Mr. Krabs gulped. "I-I mean… Ye look beautiful, sweetie!" Mrs. Puff turned away from him and sat down on a bench. _"Where is SpongeBob and his lousy drivin' skills when ye need them?" _he thought, hoping that the lad would somehow crash through the building in a boat.

Just then, a male fish wearing a dark-brown tailcoat tuxedo and a dark-brown mask stepped up onto the stage that held the orchestra. "Good evening, lovely citizens of Bikini Bottom! And welcome to our 'Masquerade of Enchantment'. I'll be your dazzling entertainment for the evening!" he spoke into the microphone.

"Ahem…" a male fish in the orchestra cleared his throat as he glared up at the other fish. "Oh, yes, along with the other loser- I MEAN, AHEM, very talented folks right here." He faked a wide grin.

The audience was skeptical of this fellow, and rightfully so, as he signaled the orchestra to begin playing. The man cleared his throat again and began screeching into the microphone. Everybody covered their ears.

A purple, male fish and his wife stood in horror of the dreadful noise. "What is this supposed to be?!" he yelled.

"I think his nametag said, 'opera singer'. I don't think I've ever seen a bigger joke!" said his wife, shaking her head.

Just then, Patrick came close to the stage, holding his pet rock in one hand and a tomato in the other. "I MUST STOP THIS HORRIFIC INJUSTICE TO MY EARS!' he cried. He grunted and chucked the tomato at the fish on stage, hitting him clean in the face. Everyone in the audience cheered once the horrendous sound of his "singing" had stopped.

"Oh, thank you, young man!" said an older lady to Patrick. The starfish smiled and straightened his crooked, red bowtie. "Anything to help my fellow citizens. Now, where were we?" he looked down at the pet rock in his hands with love-filled eyes and hugged it to his chest. Back on the stage, the male fish was then shewed away as the orchestra began to play a beautiful, classical melody.

Meanwhile, in a little corner on a teal-colored bench, sat a contemplative Sandy. The squirrel looked upon all the couples that danced elegantly around the massive dancefloor. She looked simply stunning in her long, flowing red dress that came to the floor and covered her feet. The sleeves were long, and the neckline was high, wrapping around her neck. She thought that since this was a formal party, she needed to ditch the air-suit and wear something a little more appropriate. She still managed to wear her fishbowl-shaped helmet; after all, she wouldn't have been able to breathe without it. She also swapped out her usual pink flower that sat on her helmet and replaced it with a deep-red rose. She noticed a few people giving her strange looks for having the red mask stretched over her helmet. She didn't have a mask, to begin with, so she opted to cut out some fabric from the dress and made one herself. Boy, she regretted not putting on the mask _before_ she put on her helmet.

She sighed to herself and leaned back. "Well, looks like this is a dandy party…" she looked around the room at all the people laughing and having a great time. "…For everyone else." She watched Patrick waltz around the room, giggling like a fool as he danced with his pet rock. _"Who let him in here, anyway?"_ she wondered.

Oh, how she wished SpongeBob was there with her. Wait a minute… Why SpongeBob? Wasn't she supposed to be looking out for **Squidward**? Why on earth was she looking for a little, square figure everywhere she shifted her eyes? She needed to focus.

Meanwhile, at the punch table, stood Squidward as he sipped on his little glass teacup, with his pinky out, of course. The octopus had spent plenty of time getting himself ready for this "mystery" lady. The dashing, debonair image he had of himself inside his head was _not_ what was being shown in his outward appearance. He wore a bright, leafy-green tailcoat tuxedo with purple sleeves, paired with a matching top-hat and mask. He kept wondering why people kept staring at him and whispering things into each other's ears. He held onto his stomach with his left tentacle in an attempt to appear more sophisticated. "Pft, look at these people, all having such high standards and thinking they're better than everyone else."

"Well, just look at the example you've given them, Mr. Squidward," said Mr. Krabs as he scuttled over towards his employee. "What is with that get-up? Ye look ready for a Halloween party."

Squidward sighed and rolled his eyes. "This just so happens to be the best evening-wear that I own. I actually was thinking of wearing this for a funeral… You know, for a certain porous employee of yours…"

Mr. Krabs stared at him, trying to process how morbid Squidward's statement was. "I see the therapy sessions ain't doin' much for them twisted issues of yours."

"Try living next to the dimwit; you'll start to see things the **same way**, Eugene."

Mr. Krabs sighed. "Whatever you say. How's that love poem date goin' for ye?" asked Mr. Krabs, itching himself on his side.

"Oh, the lady in shining armor hasn't shown her lovely face yet."

Mr. Krabs cocked a brow. "Just how do ye know her face is lovely? She could end up lookin' like your mother."

Squidward became defensive. "And what's wrong with _that_?"

"You want her lookin' like a beaten-up zombie risin' from the grave? Arg arg arg arg arg!"

Squidward slammed his glass down on the table. "My mother is a beautiful lady!"

"Is that what her fifth husband said before she took off her makeup? Arg arg arg arg arg!"

Squidward clenched his tentacles in anger. How dare his snarky boss say such a thing about his mother? Sheesh, the crab was greedy **and** insulting; both at work and elsewhere. "Say what you want, Eugene. But I will be dancing the night away with a beautiful enchantress before this whole thing is over." Squidward smiled and didn't give up hope. Perhaps if this lady was rich, he could finally escape the hellhole of a life that he had and move to a beautiful, exotic island. Sure, in his dreams. After all, Sandy didn't have that kind of money… Which he would soon find out.

Mr. Krabs smirked. "Heh, heh, whatever you say, Mr. Squidward. And after you've been stood-up and you're down at the ice cream parlor, stuffin' your face with a triple scoop of misery, don't come cryin' to me. Just make sure you're not late for work! Arg arg arg arg!"

Just then, an irritated Mrs. Puff came up behind Mr. Krabs and pinched him by his ear. "They're playing our song, Eugene, and you've been avoiding me all evening. We came here to dance, so let's get on with it, or I'm putting you in detention for disobedience!" she spoke sternly in teacher-mode.

"Ow, ow, I'm sorry, sweet Puff, OWWWW! Ooh, me achin' shell…" he cried as she dragged him off.

Squidward sighed, looking out into the crowd of people. Where was the mystery woman within this humongous room? She could've been anyone, _anyone,_ at all. "Oh, where are you? I need you to help me forget about my pathetic existence." Squidward spoke softly to himself.

"Howdy, Squidward." A voice called from his left. He turned to look and had to restrain himself from laughing at the ridiculous sight of Sandy's mask pulled over her helmet. "Well, hello, S-Sandy…" he bit his lip, trying to hold back his laughter. "W-what are you doing here?"

Sandy rubbed her arm, glancing down at the ground. "Oh, ya know, I finished with all my experiments and thought it'd be fun to just… ya know… hang out?" she shrugged.

The octopus stared blankly at her. "At a ball, full of highly educated people?"

"Well, you're forgettin' that I, myself, am a scientist." She smiled with confidence and placed her hands on her hips. Squidward just couldn't take her seriously with that mask over her face. "Right. That's… interesting."

"And, uh… What about you? You meetin' someone here?" she asked, not quite ready to tell him the truth.

"Oh, yes, a mystery woman. She left the most beautiful poem at my doorstep, expressing just how wonderful I am. At least **someone** appreciates me in this life."

Sandy couldn't help but feel bad for this tortured man. She felt guilty, but she also couldn't deal with his superior view of himself. It was like she was torn between the good and the bad about him. "Well… Where do you think she might be?" she asked, biting her lip.

Squidward shrugged. "I have no idea. I just stand here, patiently waiting for my life to begin…" he stared off into space.

Just then, a soft, soothing melody began to play. Sandy glanced over at the orchestra, then back at Squidward. "You uh…" she cleared her throat. "You wanna dance till she comes?"

Squidward was taken aback by her suggestion. Dance with a squirrel? Oh, what could it hurt? He shrugged again. "Sure. How can I lose anything, when I never had anything to lose?"

"_Sheesh, I can't get over Squid. SpongeBob's like a bright, sunny mornin' filled with fragrant flowers. But __**this**__ guy? I've seen happier __**prisoners**__."_

* * *

_~French Narrator~_

"Meanwhile."

As the sun was disappearing over the horizon, SpongeBob, dressed in his little black tailcoat tuxedo and matching black mask (not to mention his freshly polished shoes), came riding (or slithering) through the sandy landscape, sitting on top of Gary's shell. He knew that the library was fairly deep into town and that it was impossible to make it on foot; he would be exhausted by the time he got there. "Come on, Gare! We can make it, it's not that far now!"

Gary was out of breath and irritated with his owner. "Meow (I don't see why you have to use me as a means of transportation. We could've just taken Squidward's bike.)"

"Oh, but that would be stealing!" SpongeBob shook his head in disapproval.

"Meow? (May I remind you that he might be **stealing** Sandy away from you?)"

SpongeBob stared into space. "Good point. Onward, Gare-boat!"

Gary groaned and pushed himself to go faster. Then, suddenly, the snail abruptly stopped as he saw something out of the corner of his eye. "Meow! (Look! Isn't that Mrs. Puff's boating school?)" he asked, looking over at the large schoolyard that was a short distance from them.

SpongeBob gasped. "Good eye, Gary! I'm sure Mrs. Puff won't mind if we borrow one of her boats." Oh, the backwards thinking of the sponge was too much for any sane person to handle.

They approached the outskirts of the yard. Upon reaching it, the two noticed that a locked gate had been newly installed. SpongeBob scratched the top of his head in confusion. "Hmm… That's funny, I don't remember this gate being here."

Gary scoffed. "Meow, meow (Well, I don't blame Mrs. Puff for installing it. I mean, with how many times you've crashed her boats and gotten her thrown in jail when everything was **your** fault-)"

SpongeBob rolled his eyes. "O-okay, Gary, there's no need to rub it in. I've gotta get this thing open!"

SpongeBob grabbed onto the gate with both his hands and feet and pulled it as hard as he could to open it, but with no luck. Gary stared at him. "Meow? (Uh, you **do** see there's a padlock right there, right?)" he used his eyestalk to point at said lock.

SpongeBob's shoulders slumped. "You're right. What are we gonna do now? This thing's locked up really tight."

"Meow (Not for long. I can pick it.)" Gary slithered up to the lock, pulled out a safety pin from underneath his shell, and began his work by twisting the safety pin into the lock with his teeth.

SpongeBob watched in amazement. "Gee, Gary. If I didn't know any better, I'd say you've done this before."

Gary looked up at him. "Meow, meow? (You remember the story of that huge bank robbery last summer? You know, the one where they broke in in the middle of the night and took everything from the safe?)"

"Yeah… what about it?"

"Meow (They never caught the person who did it.)"

SpongeBob shook his head. "What a shame."

"Meow (Yep. Good thing I know how to erase security camera footage.)"

SpongeBob smiled for a brief moment. "Yeah… Wait, what? Gary, come back here, GARY!" The sponge chased after the snail after he had successfully picked the lock.

_Back at the ball…_

"Now, uh, let's see…" Sandy began, as she and Squidward stood in the middle of the dancefloor. Sandy was attempting to figure out their positions. "If I put my right hand here, and you put your left one there- "

"Sandra, please. I've been into the art of dance for the last… **years** of my life; I think I know how to waltz." Squidward insisted, wording his sentence carefully so as to not reveal his age.

Sandy shrugged. "Alrighty then, whatever you say." The two got into position and slowly began to move across the floor to the music.

The atmosphere around them was terribly awkward. Sandy couldn't bring herself to look into those grumpy eyes of his. _"I've gotta tell him about the poem at one point… I mean, he should be flattered. He was the one who was writin' me stuff in the first place… right?" _she deeply questioned the possibility now.

"_Neptune, where is that lady? I already look ridiculous. Dancing with this squirrel is gonna make me look even worse."_ Squidward's thoughts were full of worry.

The two displayed expressions of awkwardness and suppression of their inner thoughts. Mr. Krabs and Mrs. Puff danced together on the other end of the room, both watching the octopus and squirrel from a distance.

"Hmm… Well, that's a bit strange. I wasn't expectin' the mystery woman to be Sandy," said Mr. Krabs, pursing his lips to the side.

Mrs. Puff breathed heavily as something was weighing down on her mind. Mr. Krabs noticed the worrisome look on her face. "Is there somethin' troublin' ya, sweet Puff?" he asked, his tone of voice sweet.

She looked up at him. "Huh? Oh, it's not too bad, Eugene. Well, maybe not too bad since I've gotten used to it by now…" her tone of voice was riddled with uneasiness.

Mr. Krabs wondered what she was talking about. "What do ye mean by that, Mrs. Puff?" he asked, continuing to waltz with her around the dancefloor.

The woman visibly trembled and broke into a sweat. "Oh, it's just that I can't help this feeling that something… **something** that involves SpongeBob's shenanigans is going to come crashing through this place and kill us all. Oh, I can't take it, Eugene!" she cried, her voice filled with anxiousness as she buried her head into Mr. Krabs' shoulder.

Mr. Krabs rubbed his claw on her back, offering her comfort. "Aw, don't worry about it, sweet Puff. I'm sure the boy is probably at home or at me restaurant, countin' the sesame seeds like he does every night." He smiled reassuringly at her.

* * *

_~French Narrator~_

"Oh, what a foolish crab for thinking such things!"

"Whoa! WHOA! GARY, HOW DO I STOP THIS THING?!" SpongeBob yelled in horror as he steered the wheel of an expensive boat, driving recklessly down the road towards the library. The sponge drifted the vehicle in every direction: side to side, over rocks and debris, as well as over a few people's heads. SpongeBob was determined to stop at nothing so that he could set things right with Sandy and Squidward; even if it meant getting a few lawsuits from running some people over.

Gary tucked his eyes inside his shell any time that his owner would dodge objects or people. "Meow! (Don't stop, just keep going, we'll get there! _If Neptune has forgiven me of all my sins.)"_


	7. Chapter 7: In the nick of time

**Disclaimer: I do not own SpongeBob SquarePants or any of its characters. I do, however, own this story.**

**Flowery Poems**

Things were beginning to get much, **much** too awkward for Sandy and Squidward. There they were, clunkily waltzing around the room, both looking hilarious in their clothing, and feeling the heat of the tension; not romantic tension, but the tension of both of them wanting to speak their minds. Sandy needed to tell Squidward that the mystery lady he was expecting was dancing right there with him, and Squidward felt the need to break up their dance because it was just plain ridiculous to him. _"I shouldn't be wasting my time dancing with Sandy! I should be looking out for the octopus of my dreams… well, at least I'm __**hoping**__ she's an octopus. I hope she looks just like me! If she does, she's sure to be drop-dead gorgeous." _He thought, a small smile forming on his lips as he thought highly of himself.

"Uh, Sandy," he cleared his throat, trying to sound as polite as possible. "I don't think this is working out," he looked at her as they both stopped their waltz.

Sandy looked him in the eyes with nervousness. "W-what do ya mean, Squiddy? D-don't ya like the way I dance?"

Squidward sighed. "Sure, but it's not that. I just feel that I'd rather be spending my time looking out for my **actual** date, you know what I mean?" he smirked at her.

Sandy gulped. This was **not** going to be easy. "Uh, haha, about that, Squidward… There's somethin' you should know about that 'mystery' lady…"

Squidward cocked a brow at her. "What?"

"Well… How do I say this?..." she looked up at him. "I-I'm her." She smiled.

Squidward stared blankly at her for a moment, like a deer about to get hit by a tractor. He gulped. "I-I'm sorry, what?"

She nodded quickly. "Yep! Haha, I'm the one who left you that poem on your doorstep."

Squidward's face drooped in disappointment. "You mean… There's really no mystery lady? It's just **you**?"

Sandy felt a bit bothered by the way he said those words. What was wrong with her being the mystery lady? "Well, yeah… it's me. I mean, I thought you knew who you were writin' those poems to."

Squidward's eyelid twitched in pure shock as he stuttered. "I-oh-w-what? I never left you any poems," he said, raising his voice and furrowing his brows.

Sandy was taken aback by his answer. She had a feeling this was coming, but it still troubled her to hear him say it in such a way. "Y-you didn't?" she asked, her ears drooping.

He placed his hands on his hips. "I most certainly did not! I have **no clue** what you're talking about."

Sandy furrowed her brows. "There ain't no need to get defensive, Squidward. The poems were beautifully written, and I figured you might've been the one to write them, what with you bein' so into that sort of stuff."

Squidward stared at her. "Well, I appreciate the thought, but I _never_ wrote you any poems. I mean, the person would have to be a complete genius to emulate **my** poetry." He showed a smug smile.

"Oh, quit lying to yourself, buddy! We've **heard** your lousy drabble," said a male fish on the other side of the room. It appeared to have been the same fish, from the day before at the Krusty Krab, who thought so lowly of Squidward's poetry.

Sandy pursed her lips to the side as she pulled out one of the poems from a secret pocket hidden within her dress. "Well, if you're so sure about that, then maybe you should read it and tell me what you think, just to make sure." She held out the paper in her hand for him to take.

"Gladly," he said, reaching for it and revealing the perfect manicure on his tentacle.

Sandy felt uneasy upon seeing it. "Uhhh… What's with the nail polish?"

He peered at her. "I like to keep them filed-down and in good working order; it's a perfectly **normal** thing to do." He snatched the poem from her hand and began to read it. Sandy watched as his eyes drifted back and forth on the page. She studied his expression as it changed from bland and serious to smug. He bit his lip as he began to crack up. "Heh, **this** is something you thought I would write?"

Sandy cocked a brow at him, wondering why he was beginning to laugh. "Yeah… what's wrong with it?"

"**What's** wrong with it?! HAHA," he pointed out each line on the paper. " 'a vision of beauty', 'locks of golden-brown fur', 'no matter what Neptune tosses in my way'?! HA, HA, oh, that's rich, HA, HA, HA!" he fell onto the floor, unable to contain his hysterical laughter. His hat fell straight off his head as he hit the floor.

Everybody in the room stopped everything they were doing to gaze upon the thrashing octopus in ridiculous clothing. Sandy looked around at everybody, embarrassed. "And what makes you think your poetry is any better?" she asked, sounding stern.

Squidward stood up and wiped a tear from his eye. "Whew! What makes mine better? Well, let's start with **EVERYTHING!** The illiterate buffoon who wrote this is even more delusional than that idiot, SpongeBob! HEH, HEH, HEH!" His nose deflated and re-inflated as he cackled.

Sandy had never been so insulted, and the insult wasn't even directed at her. She firmly grabbed him by his collar and lifted him up off the ground. "How **DARE** you say somethin' like that about SpongeBob?! Never mind the poems, SpongeBob ain't no idiot. He's a kind, hardworkin' little fellow who has a good heart; much different than the likes of **your** sorry behind!"

All the educated people, and people who were extremely mentally challenged (such as Patrick), watched in shock as the squirrel was wringing Squidward's neck. He gasped for water. "S-Sandy, p-please… You're suffocating me!" he begged.

Sandy gritted her teeth together in anger. "I'll let you go if you take back what you said about SpongeBob."

Squidward nodded in desperation. "Okay, okay, I take it back! He's not an idiot, he's the **BIGGEST** idiot the universe has ever seen! Next to Patrick-AGHH!" she tightened her grip around his throat

"Hey! That's not nice, you big-headed toilet plunger!" said Patrick. Everyone stared at the starfish.

Mr. Krabs and Mrs. Puff watched in horror. "Oh, no! If the lass holds him like that much longer, I'm gonna lose me cashier! Well, not that he ever did his job anyway…" he shrugged.

Mrs. Puff gulped, sweat pouring down her face. "Oh, Eugene, this is so terrible! I can't watch someone die. I've almost been there too many times myself! Oh, dear Neptune! The only thing that would make this worse is if **SpongeBob** were to come _**crashing**_ through here in a boat- "

**BANG!**

Everyone gasped in unison as the expensive boat came crashing through the side of the building, causing concrete, decorations, and dust to explode everywhere. Once the haze cleared, everyone peered at the boat. Out came SpongeBob and Gary, both coughing and dusting themselves off. Gary, even though he wasn't wearing a fancy outfit like SpongeBob was, pulled out a feather duster from under his shell and dusted himself off.

Mrs. Puff stood there; eyes half-closed and fins clenched. "I should quit the boating business and become a psychic." Her tone of voice was low and threatening.

SpongeBob's eyes darted around the room in search of Sandy. "Sandy, there's something I've gotta tell you-YIPE! Sandy, what are you doing with Squidward?!" he asked, slapping his palms against his cheeks in fear.

Sandy looked back at him. "I'm teaching him a lesson for insulting one of the poems I was given! And he insulted **you** on top of it! He's a no-good, dirty, stinkin', rotten- "

"**CHOKING**." Squidward bellowed beneath her grasp, kicking his tentacles back and forth while trying to escape.

"That, too!" she growled.

SpongeBob came closer, frantically shaking his hands as a signal for her to let him go. "Sandy, it doesn't matter! Squidward insults me all the time, I'm used to it!"

"**Now** he notices that?!" said Fred the Fish.

Sandy growled even lower. "Urgh, that gives me an even **better** reason to squeeze the life out of him! This joker insulted my poem, insulted you, and to top everything off with a dandy little sprinkle, it seems he's disappointed in findin' out that **I** was the mystery lady who left him a poem. Well, y'all can refer to me now as the 'mystery imbecile'. I can't **BELIEVE** I was dumb enough to stroke your ego!" she glared up at him.

Squidward was beginning to lose consciousness. "Tell… Clarry... I said… goodbye…" Squidward uttered desperately, referring to his clarinet.

SpongeBob couldn't let the love of his life go to prison for strangling one of his best friends. Out of sheer desperation and panic, the sponge dropped to his knees in front of her and tore off his mask. "SANDY, I LOVE YOU!" he cried. He held his clasped hands together against his chest as he looked at her with tearful eyes.

Sandy wasn't sure if she heard him right. "Huh?"

"Sandy, **please** drop him." He begged. Sandy finally decided to heed the words of the sponge and let Squidward go. She released him, causing him to fall to the ground and gasp for water.

The battered and bruised octopus breathed heavily as he held onto his throat. "Oh, thank… Neptune…" he sighed, collapsing backwards onto the floor.

Sandy walked over to SpongeBob and stared down at him while he was still on his knees. "W-what did you say, Sp-SpongeBob?"

Tears rolled down the sponges' cheeks. "Oh, Sandy. This was all just a big misunderstanding. You see, Gary heard me saying some funny stuff about you- "

"Meow (He was pouring his heart out in the form of rhyming.)" Gary added from across the room.

SpongeBob looked at his pet then back at Sandy, wiping his nose. "Y-yeah. And Gary figured that I was too scared to write those words down and give them to you myself, so he wrote them down for me. He's been the one sneaking into your dome to deliver the poems…" he sniffed.

Sandy looked over at Gary with a sorrowful expression on her face. "And… well, I guess maybe you thought I was too immature to feel that way about you, and I guess that's why you thought it could've been Squidward."

"Meow, meow (Well, to be fair, you are still a little kid-ish, Papa-Bob. I mean, one of the papers I found to write the poem down onto had a heart drawn on it.)"

SpongeBob became visibly embarrassed by the snail's words. "Gary, you gave her **that** one?" he covered his eyes with his hands.

Sandy showed a half-smile. "That's okay… I thought it was cute."

SpongeBob smiled up at her. "Y-you did?"

She shrugged. "Why, sure! I mean, I should've known it was you. I don't know what I was thinkin'. Squidward? Drawin' hearts?" she chuckled.

"Hey, why not? I'm an artist, you know!" Squidward defended himself while he was still on the floor.

"Meow? (Why would you draw hearts? All you ever draw, or paint is self-portraits.)"

SpongeBob and Sandy looked back at each other. "Sandy, everything that is written in those poems is true. I meant every word." He grabbed her hand and gazed up at her.

"You are the source of all my good dreams; the blood that courses through my veins; the drum that makes my heart beat, but most of all, my love…" he stood up and held onto both of her hands. "You are the light that shines down on my life." He smiled at her.

Sandy's eyes welled up with tears as she stared at him. SpongeBob wasn't sure what to make of her expression. He sighed. "I know this is really sudden, Sandy. So, if you need a little time to think about it- "

Before he could finish his sentence, the squirrel picked him up and squeezed him tightly against her. "Oh, SpongeBob. You little porous weirdo…" she cried. "I should've never doubted you."

SpongeBob smiled. "Hey, I think she likes me!" he chuckled.

"Awww!" Everyone gushed.

Sandy set him down on his feet. "**Like** ya? SquarePants, I **love** ya! Every part of ya. It's only taken me forever to realize it." She smiled down at him.

"Yay! Happy ending!" Patrick cheered.

"Oh, **SHUT UP**, you lowlife buffoon!" Squidward spat. Sandy gasped, realizing he was still on the ground. She and the sponge ran over to help him up.

"Are you okay, Squidward?" asked SpongeBob. Squidward groaned in response.

"Squidward, ol' buddy… Can ya forgive me for almost killin' ya?" she hoped.

Squidward sighed. "Sure, why not? With how many people you've almost killed with those hands of yours, it doesn't surprise me that I would be the next in line."

Sandy glared at him. "Don't push your luck, Tentacles."

"I'm glad you're okay, buddy." Said SpongeBob, smiling softly at his neighbor.

Squidward looked at both of them and sighed. "Oh, I guess I owe you two weirdos an apology, too. Sandy, I'm sorry I insulted your little poem, and SpongeBob…" he looked into the blue eyes of the sponge. "You can go fall off a skyscraper."

SpongeBob smiled and hugged the octopus. "Apology accepted, old buddy!"

Just then, a police officer came onto the scene. "Ahem," he cleared his throat. The three looked up at him. "Howdy, officer. What can we do ya for?" asked Sandy.

The policemen glanced back at the crashed boat and all the damage that had been caused. "Well, for starters, you can pay up for the damages caused to this little party." He smiled.

Mrs. Puff and Mr. Krabs walked up. "And you can pay for a new boat for my school, SpongeBob; if you still want to be in my class." Mrs. Puff glared down at her spongy student after discovering that the expensive vehicle was, in fact, from her school.

SpongeBob smiled sheepishly at her. "Heh, heh, I'll be sure to break the savings out from my piggy bank to pay for it."

"And don't be thinkin' about a raise to help ya out with that, boy-o, 'cause it ain't happenin'." Mr. Krabs said, sternly.

SpongeBob chuckled. "No worries there, Cap'n. Hey, where'd Gary go?" everyone looked around the room.

"Hey, look, there he goes!" shouted a male fish, pointing at the snail who had taken off in the crashed boat. He went speeding away into the distance.

Mrs. Puff gasped. "Not my boat! After him!" Everyone ran out through the giant hole in the wall in pursuit of the snail.

While everyone else at the ball ran after the snail, SpongeBob, Sandy, and the orchestra stayed behind. Sandy looked at him. "Ain't ya gonna go after Gary?"

SpongeBob shrugged. "Oh, trust me, he won't get away with it for long; the little rascal **always** gets caught. Well, almost always, hahaha!" he chuckled.

The two smiled at each other. SpongeBob glanced at the orchestra as they began to play another soft, classical melody. The sponge then turned and bowed in front of the squirrel. "May I have this dance, Miss Cheeks? 'Twould be my pleasure," he spoke with an English accent, making Sandy giggle.

"Why didn't ya say so, partner?" The next thing SpongeBob knew, he was unexpectedly being dragged towards the middle of the now-empty dancefloor. "Whoa!" he shrieked. The two got into position and held each other closely. They shared in the warmth of each other's embrace. It seemed that the sponge's hope to get to dance with her wasn't as farfetched as he initially thought it was. Suddenly, after the sponge was caught giggling at Sandy's mask stretched hilariously over her helmet, she decided to tease him by insisting on being the lead. Sandy dipped him towards the floor, making them both giggle with delight.

_Meanwhile…_

Gary sat on top of the steering wheel, looking back at the fools behind him. "Meow! (Haha! First the bank, now this! GARY THE SNAIL IS INVINCIBLE!)" Just then, as the snail turned back around and looked at the road in front of him, he realized he was speeding _right_ in the direction of the prison. He sighed. "Meow (Gary the Snail should also use a GPS and watch where he's going.)"

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**A/N: Hmm... I just realized a reoccurring theme in my Spandy stories: SpongeBob and Sandy always end up confessing their love for each other in front of a crowd of people... I need to come up with something different. XD**


	8. Chapter 8: Epilogue

**Disclaimer: I do not own SpongeBob SquarePants or any of its characters.**

**Flowery Poems: Epilogue**

It had been a number of weeks since the Masquerade, and SpongeBob and Sandy were as happy as they ever were together. Squidward continued on with being in love with his clarinet, Mr. Krabs and Mrs. Puff were still happy together, Patrick had lost his pet rock countless more times, and Gary? Well, he was busy doing community service to make up for the crimes he had committed.

It was a calm, cool evening in Jellyfish Fields. The sun had disappeared almost entirely, and SpongeBob and Sandy sat on the top of the largest hill, SpongeBob leaning his head on her shoulder as they gazed out into the peaceful horizon.

SpongeBob sighed, happily. "You know what I just thought of, Sandy?" he asked softly.

"Hmm?" she wondered.

"If Gary had never written down those poems, we wouldn't be here, together."

The two leaned away from each other. Sandy looked down at him. "Aw, that ain't true, SpongeBob. I think we both would eventually realize we were meant for each other; with or without Gary's help." She smiled at him.

He offered a crooked, goofy smile. "Really?"

"Sure. I mean, it wouldn't have been long before I realized just how adorable you are." Her words made him blush. "No, you're adorable!"

She nudged him with her elbow. "No, _you_ are."

"No, you are!" he giggled.

"**No**, you are." She furrowed her brows.

"No, you- " before the sponge could finish, he was interrupted by a pair of lips silencing his own. What in Neptune's trousers? When had she taken off her helmet?

SpongeBob was taken aback by the sudden, loving smooch. His brain could barely function within those few moments. It seemed to be lasting longer than he thought it would, which caused him to fail at resisting the urge to wrap his little arms around her. They squeezed each other tightly before she needed to break free. She turned around and grabbed her helmet, threw it over her head, flushed out the water, and gasped for air. She then turned to him and smiled.

He smiled shyly, his cheeks turning red with embarrassment. "Well, I guess that means we're **both** adorable." The two shared a good laugh and continued to enjoy the quiet evening.

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**A/N: Well, that's the end of this story! I'd just like to thank all of you guys out there for reading and reviewing this story, as well as all my other stories. I'd especially like to thank "umi" for inspiring me to write this. Btw, I apologize if this story made no sense. XD It was just something I thought of off the top of my head. Also, I sincerely apologize for any bad grammar, plot holes and/or continuity errors. Not only in this story, but in every story I've written. I'm trying my best to improve. Until next time, bye!**


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